Uncle Tom Riddle
by DrogonSoundsLikeDragon
Summary: Four year old Hermione Granger is taken by her uncle, Tom Riddle, to live at his castle and become his Dark Heir; But Tom should know by now that the future can rarely be planned... ties in with Harry Potter. This is an updated and edited version of my original Uncle Tom Riddle, please enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys!

Basically, this is NYANCAT56. I've forgotten my password and I can't remember my email for my old account, so I've made this new one. After leaving it a while, I've decided I want to update my most popular story Uncle Tom Riddle! However, after reading it through I realized some parts of it were quite poor and a bit Mary Sue ish, (and the grammar is appalling), so I'm going to edit all the chapters and then continue posting new chapters :) sorry for the wait for an update! Anyway, please enjoy my revamped story:)

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PROLOGUE

It was the dead of winter when Tom Riddle sat down at his desk. A bitter wind had entered the magnificent castle in which Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters reigned, and another successful raid on the ministry had heightened the Death Eaters spirits. Tom had decided to let them roam free in a party in the Luncheon Hall, with the invitation extending to their wives and children. The next generation of his loyal servants would need to become accustomed to the bodies and sights of a Mudblood revelry. The jeers and shouts of the Death Eaters were so loud that noise leaked through the charm that had been placed on the hall.

A few days previous Tom had embarked on a visit to his father's stately home in Little Hangleton. Any documents found there were taken by Tom. He needed a new vessel to split his soul again, perhaps for the final time. His immortality was only a few letters away.

So in the dark study, kept alight by a few sickly green candles, sat Tom Riddle, undoing a previously opened envelope. It read;

 _My dear Thomas,_

 _Your parents have spread the news about your return. I say, I can't wait for that fabulous ball tomorrow at your house! It is so good to see you returned and well. I have missed you greatly over the years. No one would believe me about that tramp Merope having you hoodwinked. I knew so when you refused to wave at me at that last ball held by your parents. I have so missed, you, my friend._

 _Your loving friend,_

 _Cecilia Grangere_

Tom threw this to the marbled floor and grabbed the next letter. However much he hated his father, a morbid fascination rose up in him about this…Cecilia person. The bitter cleft in his heart at being left by his father seemed to enjoy the torture of reading about his relative's later life. The next letter stated;

 _My dear Thomas,_

 _Please do not think I turned down your offer of courtship at the ball last week. It just shocked me so, being asked of my hand by a person of your calibre. But my dear, I accept. My father has agreed to you escorting me to the opera next week in London. I shall pore through my dresses for a suitable outfit!_

 _With all my love,_

 _Cecilia Grangere_

A dark curiosity had been awoken in Tom. He had always wanted a companion, like a mother and father. He had Nagini now, but the thought of relatives didn't make him shudder as he thought they would. Perhaps the gift of his magic had been passed on, to forward the line of Voldemort. The last letter's ink was smudged, and dribbled in places.

 _My Tom,_

 _My parents said I mustn't see you again. The "shame" you have brought to my family does not compare to the agony my heart feels. Our little boy is to be called Robert. He is healthy, and has the most gorgeous smile in the world. I will always cherish this gift you have given me. No matter how or where we will move on, rest assured my heart will always be yours._

 _Cecilia Grangere_

Tom was… the word stunned didn't really explain it. He was flabbergasted- shocked- disturbed? No word could sum up the rising tide of grief and excitement that stirred in his pale veins. And then, he came back to earth. His father, and most likely Cecilia, were both muggles. The brother he had was probably a waste of oxygen. And yet….another letter. This one hadn't been opened; most likely because Cecilia hadn't learned of Tom Sr's death. Voldemort smirked at that thought.

 _Dear Thomas,_

 _You have no idea how I have deliberated over sending this letter. How long has it been? Well over 50 years…in response to my last letter, our son, Robert, has grown into a man to be proud of. He obtained first class honours in his degree in Dentistry from the University of Edinburgh, and has settled down in a small village in Surrey. He looks almost exactly like you, with your curls and my blue eyes. He truly is the greatest gift I have been given._

 _He married a darling girl, Gemma, a few years past. Her family may not have been to the standard of the nobility we were once part of, but her personality is infectious. At our weekly lunch dates, the girl has me in stitches. But, the reason of this letter is for our first grandchild. Her name is Hermione. She's a darling little girl, she was born last week. Curly hair, the colour of dark gold. And these grey, silken eyes, already at this age._

 _And yet…I feel something is off with her. Between you and me, I do worry about her. She has a habit of staring, though i do not mind having her little face focused on mine! I swear she can look at a picture frame and have it fall from the wall. It's almost like the tricks that old hag Merope would play! I could be a senile old woman, though. Honestly, she is practically newborn! I look forward to hearing from you again. Perhaps we could meet for a coffee one day soon?_

 _With love,_

 _Cecilia Granger_

Tom hummed a raspy, dry sound. A little girl, with his flesh and blood circling in her, and a young age too, guessed from the envelope date. She'd be about four. From Cecilia's tone in the letter, she could be a…mud- muggleborn. A very low chance, yet the potential was there.

Uncle Tom.

Tomorrow he would have to rally his Death Eaters. Pay a little visit to the Granger household.


	2. Chapter 2

Please enjoy.

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CHAPTER 1

Hermione Eliza Granger jumped into her warm bed, and snuggled down into her wonderfully thick duvet, patterned with spots and stripes that her grandmother had knitted. It was a very cold night. Frostbite had already hit her dad's geraniums.

Keeping her eyes on her heavily packed bookshelf, she gradually levitated her book in the air, and brought it to her. The book, _Jack Frost,_ flopped down the moment Hermione's concentration slipped. She was, after all, only four years old. She flicked through the pages rapidly whilst the sky darkened outside her window. She had no idea of the Death Eaters poised on their broomsticks outside her house, ready to be of service to their Lord.

When her eyelids started drooping, and she had finished yawning for the third time, Hermione laid the book down and curled up into a ball. Her mother, Gemma popped her head round the door to gaze at her sleeping daughter.

"Goodnight, 'Mione," she whispered lovingly, switching off the main light. Hermione's nightlight cast a comforting glow over the room.

It would be the last time she saw her daughter.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, her uncle stood in the corner of the room, disillusioned. He needed to get a good look at his soon-to-be charge. Tom was impressed when she displayed her power floating the book to her. At her age he had only progressed to setting small blades of grass on fire with his magic.

Focusing on the Dark Marks present on all his Death Eaters, Tom sent four death eaters to fly above the small house, guarding it, and he had two death eaters, again disillusioned, to watch over the adult Grangers.

It was time to wake up his niece.

"Hermione," he said confidently, after placing a spell on the door, "Awaken."

Hermione looked up to gaze at Voldemort. She took in his curled hair and cold, grey eyes. It was as if her dad was stood in front of her, yet cold and unyielding. She shivered, and scowled at the man who had interrupted her dreams.

"Who are you?" she asked, leaping out of bed to get a closer look to him.

"I'm your uncle. You may address me as such." He attempted a cold smile, a hint of his canines creeping over his pale lips.

"Would you like some tea?" she grinned, before running to her chestnut coloured wardrobe and fetching her Pretty Princess tea set. She laid out her cutlery and poured a small amount for Tom, who looked into the cup distastefully. He conjured two small chairs, coloured with the Riddle crest. Hermione, however, clapped her hands and changed hers into a bright blue beanbag.

Voldemort was stunned at how such a young magiked person who could successfully channel her energy without a wand- it was almost unheard of in the Wizarding world. The nearest he had heard of Hermione's level was the fool Dumbledore's much aligned sister Ariana, before the filth muggles had attacked her.

Hermione had finished her "tea" and was staring at Thomas, willing him to do the same.

Without Hermione noticing, Tom brought his wand and tapped his pink cup, filling it with a particularly strong brand of firewhisky. He gratefully swigged it back, knowing he would come to need it.

"Hermione, I am your…uncle, on your father's side. He is my brother. The gifts you have, such as levitating books and changing objects at your will are due to the presence of magic within you, a gift that I and many of my cohorts share. I have decided that it would be in mine and your best interests for you to come and live at my castle, which is far away from here. I trust you will comply?"

Hermione stared blankly at him, before looking down at her feet. All she had understood of the man was he was her new uncle, and he wanted her to live in his castle. What of her Mum and Dad, and Grandma Cece? She would miss so much, like watching television with her Mum, and Dad giving her piggyback rides on his powerful shoulders. Maybe he would let her still see them.

"What about Mum and Dad?" Hermione felt her eyes tearing up, and angrily wiped them away.

"They don't care for you, Hermione. Things like their breed can't. We are special, and you should be around other special people who can match your powers. If you come with me, I can show you things. You'll live a life of luxury and power." Tom silkily spoke, twirling the pink Princess cup between his fingers. Of course the girl would be coming with him with her consent or not, but it was better for her to do so of her own free will. Such a choice would make training her much easier in the future.

"I... I guess I'll come, Uncle."

Voldemort dipped his head in acknowledgement, before excusing himself. He had a couple of memories to modify, and a brother to meet.

Hermione had meanwhile wiped the threat of tears away, and opened her _Barbie_ suitcase. Most of her clothes were simple jeans and t shirts, but the majority of room was spared for her toys and books.

Her Pretty Princess tea set was of course chucked in, along with her magician's kit and her rather astounding collection of books. She was teased about it when her mum took her down to the park a few weeks ago. So one day she collared the ring leader and floated him in a tree.

That was a good day.

Finishing her packing, she changed into a little blue shirt and some leggings, and clutched her toy panther, which her grandma gave her for her third birthday. It was the first toy she could remember owning, and was a treasured possession to the small Witch.

"Hello, Brother."

In the small living room, Robert quickly whipped around from his seat on the sofa, shaking his arm free from his wife's shoulders.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

The five Death Eaters in the room ended the disillusionment charm, and stepped forward towards their Lord.

"I...well, I suppose I'm your brother, Robert. We share a father and thankfully, nothing else."

"What?" Robert stood, and walked over to his sibling. Gemma gasped as they both looked at one another, the spitting image of Tom Riddle Sr. Voldemort's grey eyes met the blue of his brother.

"I'm calling the police." Gemma ran to the kitchen, before Rabastan Lestrange moved forward.

"Stupefy!"

Gemma fell to the floor with a dull thud, Robert instead falling to his knees.

"GEM!" He stood and looked at Tom.

"What are you! You... Freak!"

He was hit by a Petrificus Totalus by a shivering Regulas Black. Tom Riddle walked forward, and gazed into the eyes of his brother. The only sign of movement from Robert was his heavy breathing and movement of his eyes.

"We're all magical, Robert. Wizards and witches truly exist. My mother was one. So is Hermione." A low groan sounded from Robert at the sound of his daughter's name. "I'm taking your daughter...my niece, and we're going back to my home. I'm going to train her do much worse than this simple body bind. It's simply a shame her and I must share blood with muggle animals like you and your wife."

A low thudding erupted through the house, shattering the cups in the kitchen and causing the TV to fall to static. Tom shook himself, much to the relief of his nervous servants.

"But enough. I must calm myself."

At the sound of Hermione's pattering feet on the landing, Tom reappeared from downstairs. He had placed in the Grangers' mind a need to go to India. They would leave tomorrow morning, as newlyweds who were happy to start their family and an animal rescue centre. The old woman Cecilia would be taken care of by a select few of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

With the aid of his wand, Tom lifted Hermione's suitcase and secured it tightly on the back of the broom hovering outside her window. He grabbed Hermione and placed her in front of him on the broom, casting a heating charm on her shivering body. Followed by an entourage of Death Eaters, the band of Wizards flew back to their castle. The geraniums in Hermione's garden shrivelled into dead husks as Tom flew over them.

His heir was coming home.


	3. Chapter 3

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CHAPTER TWO

The great doors leading to the inside of the castle of Voldemort were slowly creaking open to Hermione and Tom. She clutched her toy panther like he was drowning, and the hand clasped on her _Barbie_ suitcase was trembling. Although she had slept for most of the journey, she could not believe it was seven pm. A full day of travelling had passed.

The Death Eaters, old and new, were a respectful distance away from Voldemort. They noticed him pat Hermione on the back and push her forwards.

"Come along, Hermione. This is your new home."

The click of her suitcase wheels echoed of the stone stairs as Hermione gingerly stepped onto the plush red rug. The floor must have had an arrival spell, as the one of the female Death Eaters, Narcissa, and a small blonde boy trotted down the grand staircase; as one, the pair bowed to Tom, before noticing Hermione hiding behind Tom's great flapping robes. Narcissa mouthed to Voldemort the word _"shy."_

Tom nodded.

"Hermione, please meet Narcissa and her son Draco. They will be taking care of you in the times of day that I will be... busy."

Draco, her son, stepped forward and looked at Hermione. His ice blonde hair stood out starkly against the rich gold and velvets draped around the decadent foyer. Tom watched carefully as his niece prepared to make her first friend in the Wizarding world.

"I'm Draco. My daddy is the boss of the death eaters. I don't suppose you know how to play Quidditch yet?"

Hermione shook her head.

" ** _My_** uncle is boss of the death eaters. He told me so. I like playing Tig, do you?"

Tom looked, surprised, at Hermione, feeling a shot of affection for her, somewhere in his black and cold heart.

"Yep." Draco answered, and smiled. He looked up at Narcissa.

"Can we go play, Mother?"

Hermione looked at Tom, for permission. He nodded.

"I want you back here, at nine o' clock, though. And-" he looked at Draco, "don't stray from the east wing."

Draco nodded, and clasped Hermione's free hand. They ran, giggling up the stairs.

Narcissa looked at voldemort respectfully.

"She's beautiful, master. I can sense the power off of her from here."

Tom nodded. There was no mistaking the fact that Hermione was a pretty child. She was small, yet not chubby, but instead lithe, with long copper ringlets down past her waist. Her eyes, though, were a silvery grey. They held a dark energy within them.

Voldemort found himself warming to her.

As Narcissa bowed and walked away to the Great Hall, Snape trudged through the door. Despite the Potions Professor only being a part of Voldemort's order for a few years, he was part of the inner circle. Bellatrix's hatred for the greasy haired man only endeared him further to Tom.

Snape gave a long, low, bow, and asked in his baritone voice, "My Lord; may we come through?"

Tom nodded, and swept away without a word. He had to see to the final preparations of Hermione's rooms.

As many of the Death Eaters began entering the Great Hall, eager for food and the chance to see the heir of Voldemort, there was the clattering of metal along with two high pitched laughs at the top of the staircase.

Draco was pulling Hermione around on a big cymbal they found. They readied themselves at the top of the staircase; Draco jumped on behind Hermione, and she gave a final push,

And they were whizzing, down and down and down…

And crashing into Severus Snape. The trio all fell to the ground in one fell swoop, and found the two new friends sprawled over Snape, whilst his nose was crashed into the silver gleaming cymbal. He let out a low groan, wheezing slightly when Draco accidently shoved his elbow into the Potion Professor's ribcage.

Snape picked himself up, and brushed off invisible pieces of dirt. The sneer in the set of his face was only belied by the thought that his godson and leader's heir were the cause of his fall.

"Miss Riddle," he announced crisply, "I am to escort you to dinner and introduce you to the main Death Eaters of the family. It would do well for you to remember poise and manners when acting around your new family. Come."

Hermione sent a panicked look to Draco before hanging her head and trudging towards the main hall.

 _This is going to be fun._

A few hours later Hermione sat, bored out of her mind, as one by one the Death Eaters walked up to announce themselves. They were on the third by now. Whilst Narcissa and Lysandra Dolohov suppressed giggles over the drooping eyelids of their young ward, Tom pressed on with introductions. His cold grey eyes swept over the room, taking in the hundreds of followers that he had accumulated.

 _This will all be hers one day._

"Hello- I am Lucius Malfoy. Father of Draco." this caught her interest. Hermione rather liked Draco, despite meeting him for an hour. Lucius bowed, and gestured to the outer ranks of the Death Eaters near the great stone doors. "I control the lower death eaters."

Lucius looked like a rather smug cat, with silvery-blonde hair and a sharp nose Hermione had noticed on many of the people here. He held a plain black cane in his hand.

He walked back, passing another, heftier man walking up. He had a square chin grazed with stubble, and a cheeky glint in his dark green eyes. Slitted eyes gazed up at Hermione, dark hair pushed back into a messy bun. His dark coat covered his massive body. He was at least six foot, with the hint of a long canine pressed against his lips.

" I am Fenrir Greyback, leader of a pack of wolves in Yorkshire; but I spend most of my time here." his gravel like voice echoed down as he trudged back in line. Hermione sighed, softly. _Four down, twenty to go.._ She thought.

After getting lost repeatedly on her journey back to her new room, Hermione curled up in bed, for the second time that day-or night? She had had a lot to take in during the few hours she had known her uncle. She always knew she was different, yet she would never have expected magic, and wands, and brooms…

And her uncle. Hermione wasn't sure if she liked him or not. She hadn't really seen that much of him, and what she had seen had been...odd. He scared her, yet there was something there. He looked almost exactly like her dad.

At the thought of her parents, Hermione curled deeper in the duvet, in her new suite. The room was a light green, patterned snakes in cool silver that lit up when the candles were extinguished. A large ensuite bathroom was found to the right of the room, and the stained glass window had a view of the lake and mountains. Hermione could still hear some of her uncle's men cackling and throwing charms in the air on the grass lawns outside. A large black sofa still held her suitcase and other oddities that she hadn't bothered to unpack yet.

In the corner of the room, her toy panther looked right at home.

A knock on the door broke Hermione out of her daydreams. Looking to the door, her uncle stepped in, smooth as silk.

"Have you enjoyed your time here so far, Hermione?"

The young girl nodded, and leaped out of her covers onto the bed.

"It's great. I like Draco. And Snape, even though he's weird."

"Yes, I had heard about your antics with my antique dish. Narcissa will be here in the morning to dress you and bring you down to breakfast. I'm..." A small crease marred the alabaster complexion of Tom as he spoke, "...Proud, of the manner you conducted yourself this evening. Now then," He gestured towards the bed, and Hermione found herself thrown back into it and tucked in tightly- "Tomorrow, Hermione, I will give you a tour of the castle. We will sort out your suitcase. And-" he glanced at her toy, "we will do something about that toy."

Hermione felt a bubble of joy rise in her. The ache for her parents was strong, yet she knew she was safe here.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Hermione awoke from her dream of flying to find Narcissa staring at her coolly from across the room. The elder woman bowed, and gestured to the bathroom.

"Miss Riddle, your uncle the Dark Lord has sent me to help you get ready for breakfast. First impressions are everything! Now please pick some clothes and meet me in the bathroom."

Hermione was quite perturbed, wondering which land her imagination had picked-until she remembered yesterdays' events. The thought of touring the castle and spending more time with her odd uncle had her leaping out of bed, stretching the soreness out of her muscles.

Tottering towards her suitcase, she grabbed a pair of denim shorts and her black t-shirt.

Running to the bathroom, she saw Narcissa had picked a lilac smelling shampoo and conditioner, and had run a full bath brimming with bubbles.

"It is so nice to choose these things. Draco would rather have a mud bath then let me brush his hair," Narcissa commented, before glancing over at the clothes Hermione cradled to her chest.

"Tell me, Hermione, what are those odd blue trousers you have there?"

Hermione grinned. "They're called denim."

Narcissa smiled. "I'm sure the Dark Lord will have one of us take you out shopping for... more Wizarding- appropriate clothing soon."

Hermione felt red tinge her ears. "I don't want him to spend money on me. Mum and Dad said to not ask if you want to receive."

Narcissa let out a tinkling laugh, showing her gleaming white teeth.

"Darling, your uncle is one of the most famous and richest men in the country. You shall want for nothing under his care. And even if he wasn't, Lucius and I would help you. "Denim" sounds like an incurable illness!"

Hermione smiled, jumping into the bubbles. She could get used to this.

Hermione arrived at the Luncheon Hall with a stomach full of nerves and a head full of doubts. That dissipated, however, as soon as she saw the great werewolf Fenrir pacing near the entrance. He growled at a passing Death Eater as the young girl ran up to him.

"Fenrir!" she squealed, racing to him. "Are you taking me to breakfast?"

He nodded, and held her hand loosely.

They entered the Grand Hall, and the first thing Hermione noticed was the halls architecture. Having now seen the Hall in the light of day, it reminded Hermione of a Greek temple, as it was held up by thick white load bearers, the ceiling was probably charmed to look like the sky outside. Right now the ceiling exuded warmth in its sunny state, a few lazy clouds journeying over its pale blue complexion.

As soon as she entered the hall with Fenrir, everyone turned to get a glimpse of the dark lord's niece. There were easily a hundred people in the room.

Tom seemed to be deep in conversion with Peter Pettigrew, the stout, rat-like man, yet now he turned to walk to Hermione. His brown curls were swept back, and his curving lips were drew up in a tight smile. His eyes glowed a low red as his niece smiled at him.

"Hello, uncle!" she smiled, pleased to see a familiar face.

He nodded at her, and asked of Fenrir,

"May I escort my niece to the table?" Fenrir bowed and left without a word. Voldemort took her hand in his own, and walked to the High Table with her. Severus raised an eyebrow in recognition of the witch, and many of the Death Eaters murmured words of thanks and praise to the young girl as she pattered by them.

The head table was littered with several people. Hermione recognised Lucius and Narcissa, and smiled at Draco, who grinned in return.

Hermione was seated in-between her friend and Voldemort who only had a cup of what appeared to be coffee. Hermione helped herself to one hash brown, and one spoon of beans.

The last thing she needed was food dribbling down her.

"Hey Hermione, I've got something to show you!" Draco laughed, before concentrating hard. Before her eyes he held his breath and frowned, whilst his hair turned from a pale white to a bright, florid pink. Hermione almost fell off her chair with laughter, and even Snape was able to raise a smile.

"Draco..." His father warned, before wafting his wand over his son's head. Draco shrank back, albeit with a smile on his face.

Suddenly, the sky-ceiling turned grey, and a low slithering stuck up from the table. A giant head poked up and stared at Hermione opposite the long table.

It was a snake, as long three men, slithering on top of the table. As everyone resumed eating, Hermione concurred this must be a regular performance. She happily dug back in to her food.

The snake slid over to Voldemort, who stroked it.

"Hello, Nagini. This is Hermione."

Nagini paused once more at the girl, and wafted its head in warning. Half the table fetched out their wands .Voldemort's glare held them back.

He wanted to see what Hermione would do.

Nagini opened her mouth, to reveal fangs as big as Hermione's head. The snake shot forward at a speed no one could decipher.

But everyone's eyes were on Hermione. She looked square on at the overgrown snake, and in a bored tone, simply said "no." the snake stopped in its tracks, and suddenly buckled. It let out a hoarse squeal, and curled in on itself, before slithering furiously away back through the hall. No one but Snape noticed the Dark Lord wince and lay a hand over his heart.

As soon as it happened, Hermione looked back down at her food quite nonchalantly. She looked around as if to say "what?" and carried on eating. Draco grinned, and hugged his friend.

Everyone noticed Voldemort's gleam in his eyes. But only Snape saw what looked like a hint of a proper smile.

After the events at breakfast, Hermione was quite happy to return to her suite. She had finished unpacking, and proceeded to dig out her multitude of toys. Whilst Tom had made sure her new room was furnished with expensive toys, such as a hovering broomstick and a multitude of chocolate frogs, she still loved her magician's kit and tea set _._

Hermione decided to fetch her magicians' kit out. Tottering out the room, she threw her long curls over her shoulder, and carried her case under her arms.

All she needed was an audience.

Strolling down the corridor, passing busy house elves and plain clothed servants, the first person she spotted was Lucius striding down the corridor, every smack of his boots on the floor mirrored by a short clap of the cane.

"Lucius!" she called bossily.

 _She sounds just like her uncle_ , thought Lucius as a vein throbbed in his forehead, but otherwise he knelt down to find out what she wanted.

"Pick a card." She asked.

"Why?-"

"Pick one or I'm telling my uncle."

"Alright!"

With a twist of her hands and a smile, she asked, "Is this your card?"

She flourished the ace of spades towards the bemused man.

"…Yes. How do you do that?"

"A magician never tells her secrets."

"..Anyway, the Dark Lord sent me to take you to him." Hermione beamed.

"I can show him my card trick!"

As Tom apparated to the stone courtyard, Lucius had been convinced by Hermione that she needed a piggyback. Voldemort met this scene in the courtyard- Hermione had her hands over Lucius' eyes, kicking him like he was some horse. She was squealing "faster pony!" Lucius was standing still, not sure what to do.

When Voldemort coughed, announcing his arrival, Lucius carefully plucked Hermione off of his head and placed her to tom. She went running towards her uncle, but Lucius' eyes were trained onto Voldemort.

"Master, I-"

"Silence, Lucius. It was…entertaining. Now spend time with your _own_ child."

Lucius bowed, and swept away.

Hermione broke the short silence.

"Would you like to see a card trick?" Voldemort processed this thought, and decided to go with it.

"Yes."

"Pick a card, any card!"

"Hmm." A few minutes later, Tom would never have shown it but he was rather confused as to how she could do that with a muggle trick.

Carefully, he held Hermione delicate hand in his own, and preceded the tour of his home.

The castle, reaching the size of Hogwarts, was surrounded by acres of fields and forests. The forests to the left of the mansion teemed with life, and mountains directly behind it seemed covered with snow even in the hottest of summers. To the right of the pair stood the lake. Even now in the stillness of the air it churned with a host of creatures claiming hold to it.

Voldemort attempted to carry a light conversation with his niece, but Hermione questioned Voldemort incessantly.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Black."

"Mine's grey! What's your favourite movie?"

"I suppose you're talking about an acted film? I have no time for such mudblood foolishness."

"...Me neither. But if I *did* have one, it'd be The Little Mermaid! What's your favourite animal?"

"You."

As they walked on through the meadows, Tom slowed his pace down for his panting niece. The warmth of the pale sunlight turned her curly mass of hair to gold in its light; the pairs' grey eyes, however, had the same shine in them.

"How do you like your new home?

"I love it. Everyone does what I want and I don't have to practice my maths work or eat vegetables."

Tom smirked. "I love it when they do what I want too."

They carried on their walk.

"Hermione, one thing you must come to understand of your life here is that we are not normal wizards and witches. One day our life will be the norm, but until then there are some ideas you must accept."

Hermione frowned and nodded.

"In our world, there are certain blood types. My mother was a pure blood, as are most of my followers here. That means their family, and parents, was both purely wizards and witches. They weren't polluted by muggle blood. We are the ones destined to rule the Wizarding world one day, and our order will strive to fulfil that goal. When I eventually succumb to mortality, I will expect you to continue on my legacy."

Hermione smiled. "I can do that, uncle."

Tom was amused. "I'm sure."

"But," Hermione frowned, "What blood am I? My parents are normal."

Tom immediately stopped his walk, and crouched down to his niece's eye level. His grey eyes were deadly serious as he looked at her.

"You must never say that whilst here. Muggles are the lowest of the low. They can't create magic, or do anything or erstwhile importance. They are nothing more than servants for us, the higher of the society. I... I suppose you are half blood. I am too. My blood is in your veins, after all."

Hermione took her uncle's hand.

"We're the same!"

Tom smiled tightly, and they walked on.

Voldemort remembered the debacle earlier. He decided to show Hermione a particular part of the forest, before conjuring her toy broomstick from his pocket.

"I thought you might like to practice out here."

Hermione squealed, and grabbed the broomstick, before kicking off from the ground. As she sped off, ducking and diving through the shrubbery and trees, she almost veered into a particularly tall oak tree.

"Careful!" Tom yelled, taking a pace forwards before he stopped himself. The crunch of the leaves around him did nothing to pull him from his thoughts.

Tom was…worried? Did that explain the twisting in his heart at the thought of Hermione in danger?

He had only known his niece for 3 days, yet he had begun to care for her. It was unknown to him why caring for another would warrant pain.


	5. Chapter 5

AMMiss - thank you for reviewing! Tom is going to be very grouchy about this new emotion called "love" :P haha i can't wait to write about Tom having to deal with Hermione's crushes in a few chapters.. he'd better get his shotgun ready;P All I'll say is, the more Snape interacts with Hermione, the more divided he'll become about his loyalties... :P

Suzululu4moe- thank you for reviewing! I'll have to try and see if i can find my recovery one:) haha Tom totally is the grinch, just wait until the christmas chapters:P

DianneBaquiran - thank you! haha me too, i thought it was about time :P

maraudersanarchy - thank you! i'll enjoy writing it, i regret leaving out her interactions with other death eaters and possible crushes in my original. Hopefully she won't be stuck up, but more proud of her uncle when she begins at hogwarts ;)

Celia- thank you!:)

* * *

It was a busy day in Diagon Alley.

The streets were bustling with life and vibrancy, and many were pounding the street hoping for bargains and laughter. The summer breeze had carried with it a sense of hope in the air.

Fenrir and Hermione were out shopping that particular day, having had Tom press a huge sack of galleons into the werewolf's hands and order him to buy what Hermione commanded. Fenrir saw no shame in accompanying the amusing young witch for her fancies, and the added promise of being in the front lines at the next raid brought a skip to the werewolf's pace.

"Wait, Hermione," Fenrir suddenly said gruffly with a smirk to his gaze. The young witch followed him over to the Animals' Apothocary, where a tired young man with rips in his clothes stood waiting at the counter.

"Well, Remus, it's lovely to see you out and about without a full moon!" Said Fenrir with a wry smile. The younger werewolf looked back calm and placidly, albeit with his back hunching slightly.

"Fenrir."

The werewolf looked down at Hermione, who gazed at the animals around her disinterestedly. One black raven squawked at her, sending her burrowing into Fenrir's grey coat. Remus crouched down on his knees, looking Hermione straight in her grey eyes. He let out a smile at her.

"Who might you have here?"

Immediately, Fenrir let out a low growl.

"None of your concern, that's who." He turned to face the door of the magical shop.

Remus raised an eyebrow and stepped forward.

"It's my concern if you've stolen her to build your pack again."

Fenrir laughed, and pulled Hermione closer.

"Don't worry, pup. Her guardian knows exactly where she is. I don't suppose you know where the next Order meeting is, however? My wolves are hungry for some easy kill."

Remus laughed sardonically.

"Only if you let us join in on the whereabouts for your next raid. Although we do love the thrill behind the chase."

Fenrir growled and strode out of the shop, accompanied by Hermione, who waved goodbye to the sad young werewolf as she did so.

Remus looked down to the stout witch who had returned with his delivery.

"I wonder if Harry would look like her." He muttered. The witch nodded her head in empathy.

The fabled tiara lay in the mighty oak tree, shaded by clumps of damp moss and small bugs. It's irresistible shine looked brighter than ever against the mud and greenery of the Albanian Forest. Amongst the chattering and crackling of the animals around her, Bellatrix, trembling, lifted the ancient heirloom out of the knarled tree.

Bellatrix sighed, and clutched the ancient diadem to her chest. This was the key to finally earning her master's love- of course, she was devoted to Rodolphus, and she could envisage their lives together- but Voldemort, _master_ , he was so strong and brave. It was only him who could rescue them from extinction and return them to leaders of the world. Perhaps he would allow her to be near him... maybe their children would one day sit on a throne within the Ministry of Magic...

But Bellatrix pushed those thoughts deep down. There was a war to win.

"I found it, Master."

She cackled, and disappeared on the spot.

Lunch was a welcome relief for Hermione, as she could recognise most people in the room. She sat herself down next to Draco, who was busy digging into fried dragon tongues.

"Do you wanna' play checkers? Fenrir took me shopping in Diagon Alley and I got loads of stuff!"

Draco snorted. "What's that? Is it like gobstones?"

"Nah. These don't move unless you make them."

Draco acquiesced, "If you teach me."

Whilst both children slid under the table to set up the checkerboard, Fenrir turned to Tom at the head of the table.

"We ran into an Order member, My Lord," The werewolf mentioned gruffly. "It was the wolf that was friends with James Potter. I turned him myself as a cub."

Tom raised an eyebrow at this news, and gestured for Snape to listen to the conversation.

"Did anything of importance happen? What did Hermione think?"

Fenrir snorted. "She wasn't particularly impressed with him. He began asking questions, though. I would have killed him if not for the aurors in the tavern near us."

Tom laughed, once.

"Snape, old friend, tell the little Order members what they want about Hermione. They can't breach my walls and she'll have been sufficiently taught in my arts before she begins Hogwarts."

Snape nodded. "As you wish, master."

Within a few short moments, Draco and Hermione were squabbling under the table, too near to Snape in his opinion, when Tom looked up in interest. A few seconds later, Bellatrix appeared, clutching a package close to her torn black dress. She was panting heavily, and with her half crazed eyes, limped up to the table. Blood seemed to seep out of various cuts on her stomach and arms. Narcissa looked up and sighed in relief at her sister having returned.

Bellatrix nodded her head deeply.

" Master, I have retrieved your…antique. I have sent it to the place you requested. The forest was not as willing to see it leave as they were to welcome it."

Voldemort nodded, and smiled icily.

"You have exceeded yourself, Bellatrix. There is no other that matches your loyalty and devotion."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed and she glared around the room. The masses of male Death Eaters stared at her, knowing any sound of laughter or mocking would result in Voldemort's ire.

"Sire, I have learned a depressing rumour that a Mudblood is hiding in your midst."

Slowly, despite Draco's hushed pleading, Hermione rose out of the table. She didn't like the look of this pale woman, with her heavily shaded black eyes, and her frizzy mound of hair. Tom looked over his niece, and smiled.

"Bellatrix, I have brought my niece Hermione to live with us. I will be training her as my heir."

The elder Witch looked evil.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and smiled warily.

"Hello."

Bellatrix looked all around the room, grinning. An audience was the one thing to heighten her rage.

"But, my Lord, can you not smell the mud in her blood? She had deceived you! No normal heir could reek of muggles like this imposter does!"

"Crucio." Voldemort immediately answered in a bored tone.

While the agonising screeches of Bellatrix filled the air, Tom walked over to Hermione.

"I am sure I won't need to bring to anyone's attention that Bella is suffering due to insulting my presence- by insinuating my dear niece is a mudblood. It won't need to be said that there will be no repeats of this accusation, of course?"

The Death Eaters stood silently, their women and children angling their heads down to the floor. Although the House Of Voldemort could be peaceful and homely at times, the men and women of his order were never to forget what his anger could feel like.

Bella had finished writhing around on the floor as soon as Voldemort finished his curse. She barely limped to her feet, blood dribbling out of her mouth.

Her wand slashed down on one particular curse.

"Crucio!"

Hermione was in…nothing described it. She remembered the time that nasty boy threw her off the slide in the park. This surmounted it by a hundred thousand metres. Her bones were on fire. Her head was about to burst. She-

"BELLATRIX!"

Several men in the room roared, most noticeably Lucius, Fenrir, Snape, and Voldemort. Tom swiped his hands upwards, pulling Bellatrix's wand out of her hand into his. The curse, however, continued to affect his niece.

"You will stop."

Bellatrix's mad cackle stopped halfway, and sulkily she turned away from Hermione, ending the torture.

Hermione wasn't so forgiving. She rose out of the table, and growled at the witch.

She stared, her eyes sealing Bellatrix on the spot. Slowly Bellatrix's skin bubbled, and turned a repugnant colour of green. Her eyes popped out of the sockets, and grew up to the ceiling.

Her body's bones disappeared, and instead she felt, watery.

She had turned into a slug.

Nothing happened at first. But then, Bellatrix's new skin bubbled and blistered, melting down into merely a smudge on the polished oak floor.

"Very well done, Hermione," Her uncle smiled, "That is what I like to see." The room was stood in silence at what had just taken place.

Hermione smiling, fainted under the table.

A white ceiling. A white wall. A white chair, occupied with her uncle.

"I see you have woken up. I was quite-" Tom struggled with his words, "-concerned for you. Children are not sustained for curses."

Hermione slowly nodded. She couldn't feel any lasting damage, apart from a deep ache in her bones.

"Where are we?"

"On my many ... adventures, most of my people would get hurt. I needed a hospital, so I placed one in the cellar."

Hermione sniffed a tear away. "I don't like magic."

Tom scowled. "That isn't how I wanted you to greet that curse. Make no mistake that Bellatrix will be punished when she reforms."

Hermione let a tear drop out of her eye, which was immediately seen by her uncle. He didn't like this feeling of sadness aching inside him at the sight of Hermione in pain.

Then suddenly his head snapped up, in relief.

"Hermione," she looked up at her uncle. "I have decided that you will need a nanny. I can't be with you all day, and neither can my Death Eaters. So-" he gestured towards the toy panther that Draco had brought down from her room, "I will turn your friend here into one for you."

Hermione remained silent, but her eyes were suddenly shining as bright as stars. She sat up eagerly in bed, wincing at the sudden movement.

" _Vivit enim haec panthera converti neptem placet"_ Tom uttered the spell. A small amount of white dust crept out of his wand and hit the limp toy.

There was no sound in the hospital ward. Hermione held her breath. Then slowly, the panther lifted his head.

"Hermione?" he mumbled, obviously having trouble connecting his mouth to his brain.

At his words, Hermione clutched onto him and hugged him tightly. The spell had made him grow to be even taller, yet the panther was gentle with her.

Voldemort stood up.

"What is your purpose?"

"Hermione is my charge."

"Good."

The last time Voldemort could remember doing something for another person was the agreement to spare Lily Potter for Snape- and that would never come to fruition, much to Severus' despair. To see his heir, however, smiling, proved that the strain on his magic to bring another creature to life was worth it. This was nothing like the Inferi, which could be created as easily as a cleaning spell.

Tom shivered slightly as Hermione rose up from her bed to hug him. Her warm skin latched on tightly to the cool clamminess that Tom seemed to constantly endure. His hands, shaking slightly, came to rest on her back.

"Thank you, Uncle Tom," she whispered.

Voldemort cleared his throat, and moved away from the small child.

"Get well soon, niece."

He walked back up the stairs, leaving Hermione to chat contentedly to the panther, who began licking his paws.


	6. Chapter 6

angelofdestiny16- thank you for reviewing! Don't worry I totally agree, the original was so cringey XD I am proud of 12 year old me for writing that tho;P thank you!

JuliSt- i thought so too;D haha Bella can't stand that theres another female closer to Tom then herself, Hermione put her in her place with that curse;P thank you for reviewing!

AMMiss- thanks for reviewing! haha I love writing about the more human sides of Tom and Fenrir, i'm happy you enjoy reading it!:D]

DianneBaquiran- thanks for reviewing!

* * *

It was a clear evening the night before the new school year. Dumbledore sat around the head of the table, located in the now empty Great Hall of Hogwarts. He cleared his throat to call everyone to order. Most of his loyal followers were there; Remus Lupin, the trusted werewolf, Molly and Arthur with their flaming shock of ginger hair, and even Alastar Moody, who had journeyed from his home to join his friends. Aided by the dark moon sky cast over the hall, the twenty or so people leaned forward as Dumbledore looked towards Snape.

"Severus, tell what you know of Tom's new addition to the household."

Severus Snape stood up, ignoring the whispers and glares thrown his way. It had always been this way, ever since he stood by Dumbledore's shoulder taking his vows for the Order. Lily's death would be shame enough for Severus without the addition of his new comrades.

"The Dark Lord recently learned that he had a brother, and that brother had a child. She's called Hermione, and is of course, a witch. He has expressed the desire to train her as his second in command, and eventually take over the title of Dark Lord."

Shocks and gasps littered the table, and Molly looked down at her lap, sniffling.

"That poor child."

Dumbledore looked down the rims of his half-moon glasses. This was another blow to his order; to know that Tom had an heir, a child to train in his ways, would severely impede any chances to destroy the pure blood mentality those wizards and witches held. It was nigh impossible to destroy an idea.

"It is a shame that one man's fear of death would lead to the corruption of an innocent child."

Snape nodded at the words of his leader, and carried on.

"He has not hurt her, and even seems to enjoy her company. Hermione is... spirited, to say the least."

Dumbledore looked at his followers around the great wooden table. "Tom was always a very silent child. A solemn boy."

Dumbledore appeared grave as he carried on speaking. "A child like Hermione carrying Tom's blood must not be feared or shunned. Perhaps in time she will grow to speak out against their beliefs."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was frowning as he cleared his throat. "Perhaps learning to love another will weaken him."

Dumbledore frowned. "Love is a type of magic that can never weaken someone. If he is to return to the light I fear it would destroy him."

"If she is five years old... why, she'll be in Harry's year! And our Ron," She mentioned as an afterthought.

This thought had the members of the Order squabbling around the table, all speaking over one another to have their voices heard. Dumbledore raised a hand, and the room returned to silence.

"Brave wizards and witches, please; we will leave that thought for nearer the time."

Remus, who had been squirming in his seat, now looked up towards Dumbledore and his friends.

"I saw them, actually, in Diagon Alley the other day."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware you could afford Diagon Alley, old friend."

Remus laughed, and ignored the outrage of his fellow friends. Marlene McKinnon seemed willing to jump over the table to throttle Snape. McGonagall tutted in shame at the new potions professor.

"I can't; I was there looking for a job. But I did happen upon Fenrir and a small child who must have been Hermione- I thought at first it was one of the cubs from his pack."

Arthur Weasley looked concerned. "Did anything happen?"

"Well, Fenrir tried to cause a scene with me and Hermione was laughing away. It looked like he was taking her shopping for toys."

"Can we confirm she is on the Hogwarts register?" asked Dumbledore.

The sorting hat was seating on the wooden stool in the centre of the hall, waiting for students old and new to arrive tomorrow for the new school year. At the sound of Dumbledore's voice, the sorting hat gave a long, low, nod.

"Then we must wait for her to successfully return to the Light Side. Perhaps she and Harry could even be friends. Now then, I have news of Harry- he lost his first tooth!"

* * *

At Voldemort's lair, it was a sunny day. Many of the Death Eaters had decided to treat their families to a picnic by the lake later that day, to celebrate a successful raid on the Ministry of Magic held a few days previously. Tom was ecstatic, having gained significant notes containing who would be at Hogwarts the year Hermione would join. With any luck, the Potter boy would be the same age as his niece.

Hermione had been at her uncle's house for two months now. It was the first day of September, and she could hardly wait for her birthday in a few days time.

Hermione, now, stood outside, listlessly playing with a bat and ball. Tom had locked himself in his room, thinking up ways to grab the Potter boy. He had been remarkably rude to her that morning, pushing her over in his hurry to reach his office and refusing to laugh at her joke about his Wizarding robes looking like a sofa pattern.

Lucius had decided to take Draco to a quidditch match, and Fenrir was staying with his pack over the full moon. Even Snape was bustling about the castle on official business, ready for his second year of teaching the "dunderheads and fools", as he said, at that magical school Hogwarts. From what Hermione had heard, it sounded like a weird place, and the Dumbledore that people spoke so much about didn't sound particularly appealing, especially to her uncle. If Tom didn't like something, reasoned Hermione as she bat her ball against a wall, it made sense for her to dislike it too.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes clocked on the lake. The voracious heat that had settled with the new month made the blue water look particularly appealing.

She remembered the days her dad would take her to the pool, teaching her to hold her breath underwater and balancing her on his shoulders as he swam through the chlorine.

Those were good days.

Without warning Hermione sprinted towards the side entrance of the crumbling castle, dodging past a dour looking Antonin Dolohov and making sure to hide from Bellatrix, who was stumbling down the grand staircase. Hermione decided it would be time to take a dip in the Black Lake. Once back in her suites, the witch pulled her drawers out and fished her swimsuit, before throwing her goggles in the air, grinning. It felt like an age since she had done something fun.

Tsavo, her newly named panther, had been cat napping on her trunk in the sun. His shining black coat rippled with strength as he lifted his head and yawned, thick white incisors still showing specks of blood from his morning meal earlier.

"What are you doing, 'Mione?"

Hermione beamed.

"I'm going swimming!"

Tsavo lifted himself off his ottoman and stretched his great muscles.

"I'll watch you." He purred.

Racing Tsavo down the grand staircase, Hermione noticed Snape lurking in the shadows. She strolled up to him.

"What ya' doing?"

"Keeping watch. I'm waiting for the new gates-they come with a repelling spell."

"That's a bit boring."

Snape quirked a lip towards the young girl.

"I'm afraid being a Death Eater can't all be daring raids and magical fights, you know."

Hermione shrugged, and walked back to the front door. "I'm going swimming."

Severus' eyes strayed to her intimating panther, which was showing a glimpse of his powerful fangs.

"Stay safe."

* * *

Tom was feeling guilty. He had snapped at Hermione when she said hello to him, and he had knocked her in the rush to lock his door.

But he could see no way of reaching Potter.

The protection granted by Lily Potter would sustain Harry Potter until he turned seventeen.

Thirteen years.

If his Death Eaters found out that the boy had almost crucified him at the age of eighteen months, Voldemort would be finished. It took all of his power to regain his form and return to the castle after firing the killing curse at the boy, and no amount of magic could work past the gift of a parent's life for their child. Perhaps he should have killed his brother, Robert, for Hermione. His gift would have provided reassurance that Hermione would be safe from that vile Order of the Phoenix whilst under his care.

Stretching his aching bones, Voldemort apparated to the Black Lake, fully unexpecting to see Tsavo lying on a bright yellow towel. Hermione was swimming under the rippling water-all Tom could see was a long tube poking out of the waves.

"What is she doing?" Tom asked Tsavo. Tsavo bowed his head and curved his jaw.

"Snorkelling. She has a vague idea gold can be found at the bottom of the river."

"Another muggle fancy, I presume. I came down here to check on the preparations for tonight-Tomorrow will see the return of the students to Hogwarts. I trust you can keep an eye on it?"

Tsavo bowed his head, without levering his eyes of the small girl in the lake.

* * *

The front lawn, that stretched to thirty acres, was littered with many families laughing and sharing food together. Bellatrix, fully healed, however, sat huddled in a corner near Narcissa. The blonde woman ignored her, instead focusing on the laughter of her son playing with Lucius.

"Another five years and he'll be off to Hogwarts," She commented to her shivering sister. It wouldn't be long, thought Narcissa, until her little boy would take the Dark Mark and find a suitable wife. Perhaps twenty years from now she would be sat here, holding a grandchild with Lucius by her side. Narcissa leaned back on the enchanted blanket, and smiled.

Hermione, however, was sat next to Voldemort and Fenrir, newly returned from his pack. Whilst Tom sat back and scowled, plucking a stray blade of grass from his dragonskin boot, Hermione was leaning forward on her knees, watching the acrobatic dives and dips of the fireworks Lucius had enchanted. Her eyes seemed to turn to gold whilst reflecting the heat of the flames. Tsavo, panting next to her, couldn't stop his teeth rising whenever he caught sight of the werewolves dancing around the lawn.

A mighty fire was lit by one of the house elves later in the night. As one, couples in every corner of the party stood and began to dance in front of the warm and welcoming fire. Children ran to and fro around their parent's feet, some of the cubs of Fenrir's pack changing their forms to bark and play with such children as Malifice Selwyn and Nova Lestrange, the next generation of Death Eaters. Tom looked around contently at his subjects, before rising to his feet and pulling his niece with him. She was dressed in her first new set of witching robes, the dark grey and pink of them bringing out the chestnut and auburn shades of her frizzy hair.

Tom balanced Hermione on his feet, and began twirling in a circle with her, the young girl red in the face from the heat of the fire and the happiness in her veins. His followers smiled, something they had been doing quite often since Hermione arrived, and left their leader to enjoy his dance with his niece. They knew such moments as this would be fleeting in the years to come.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for all your reviews! Hopefully i can write replies next chapter.

Sorry this chapter took so long, but i just found my motivation for editing this one to be lacking. However now it's finally done, i can get back to updating most days :D

please enjoy!

* * *

The duvet rustled as Hermione looked at the clock hung on the wall.

Six thirty.

She had been five for three hours.

Cautiously, she piled on her dressing gown and slippers, and proceeded to jump off the bed and onto Tsavo. The sleeping cat yowled in surprise at his charge flying onto his stomach.

"Oof!"

"I'm FIVE!"

"I gathered." Tsavo sighed, and looked at the clock warily. Noticing the time, he stretched and let out a gaping yawn, showing all his finely sharpened teeth. The Dark Lord has asked him to dress and bath Hermione, before bringing her down for breakfast- Narcissa would be much too busy planning the birthday of the young witch. He grabbed the scruff of Hermione's dressing gown and walked to the bathroom, her squealing and laughing all the way.

 _Today is going to be long,_ Tsavo thought to himself with a wry smile.

* * *

Hermione was fed up. She had been so excited when she bounced down to breakfast, and no one had even looked at her, much less mentioned her birthday. Everyone was too concerned with Dumbledore's recent

She sighed loudly, alerting Tom to her predicament.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Hermione grumpily answered. No birthday cake, either! Everyone had birthday cake on a birthday!

Even Draco remained oblivious to Hermione's birthday. He merely sat listening in on his parents' argument on the merits of Durmstrang against Hogwarts.

"When's your birthday, uncle?" Asked Hermione grumpily.

Tom's peaceful expression glazed over as he idly stirred his black coffee.

"I was born an hour before New Year's Day. My mother died soon after I was born, and left me in an orphanage. It's one of the worst feelings in the world, being a particularly special orphan in a particularly vile orphanage. It's a good job it was demolished soon after I reached my twenty-third birthday."

Hermione huffed; exasperated her hint hadn't been noticed. She pushed her small plate away, and dragged herself down to her room, ignoring the indulgent smile of her uncle.

"Lucius, please send word to Severus," The Dark Lord asked in a bored tone. "I want him to alert Dumbledore. Perhaps when the old fool hears of the lavish attention and adoration I plan on bestowing upon my niece tonight he will realise her and I will pose a very valid threat to... _the boy_."

Of course Lucius knew who his lord meant by "the boy". It had taken all the Dark Lord's strength to return to the castle that fateful night, and ever since the Death Eaters had lost the menace and threat they posed to the world at the height of their power.

 _Maybe if Harry can be Dumbledore's boy champion, Hermione could be ours_ , thought Lucius, who stood from the table and bowed. There was a letter to send.

As soon as Hermione had left the room, a loud buzzing of chatter erupted from the tables in the hall. Voldemort grinned in that small way of his, excited for the birthday party to be held in a few short hours. He turned to a clump of his Death Eaters waiting patiently for orders.

"Hmm... Rodolphus. I want you to occupy Hermione for a few hours as we begin her celebrations."

The pure blood nodded, and lightly kicked the snoozing panther on the stone floor. Tsavo hissed as Rodolphus grinned at the animal.

"Come on, cat."

* * *

When Lucius entered Hermione's room, he was shocked to his core. A pink table was littered with plates and cutlery, and noticed Rodolphus Lestrange. One of the Death Eaters responsible for the murders of hundreds of muggles was sat on a tiny seat, almost buckling under the spidery man's weight. He appeared to be enjoying his imaginary tea which was supped from a tiny pink cup, and bore the evidence of bright pink blush on his cheeks.

Hermione was looking slightly more happy then her overcast face at breakfast, happily babbling away to the Death Eater whilst spreading out imagined food and drink to her stuffed animals. At the sound of Lucius' laughter, Rodolphus fell off his chair in the race to appear a respectable pure blood.

"One word of this to the others and I'll gut you," He snarled to the blonde man, before striding out of the rooms.

Hermione clocked sight of him.

"Hi, Lucius!"

"Miss Riddle, your uncle requests your presence in the great hall immediately."

Hermione's face fell.

"Is this about the fountain? I didn't blow it up! Draco was there and he saw I didn't do it! It was… It was Snape! That's why he left the party in such a hurry!"

Lucius let out a smirk. It wouldn't do to tell her Tom was ecstatic every time he saw a hint of destruction from his young family member.

"Even so, I urge you to dress yourself in more... formal attire, and meet me outside."

Hermione shrugged, and walked to her wardrobe.

Pushing the wooden thick doors open, she entered the pitch black room. Thunderous applause and cheers cried out, the normally drab hall transformed with rich green and silver trapping everywhere the eye could see. "Happy birthday, Hermione!" rang out clearly, echoing in the great stone walls. The light clicked on, and now Hermione could clearly see all of her friends, including Tom, who was sitting down at the head table. A large stack of presents stood out invitingly in the corner, hidden slightly by the smiling and laughing pure bloods. Candles were lit in every crevice of the stone hall, younger children running and to and fro the tapestries of Slytherin.

Hermione sat herself down next to her uncle. She couldn't believe she doubted for a moment that her friends had forgotten her birthday. There was even a small cake shaped cloth in the corner of the room!

* * *

It had been a long night for Hermione. Her evening had been full to the brim with party games, She had won a small broomstick, but gave it to Draco. he was passionate about Quidditch.

Nagini had kept a wary distance of Hermione ever since the young witch had set her eyes on the snake; however, attracted by the noise and smells, Voldemort's familiar slithered forward to peer a head into one of Hermione's presents. Tom merely smirked, and stroked his horcrux.

"I'll cut you some cake if you wish, dear one."

Nagini flicked her tongue out, and butted her great head into her master's leg.

At around eight o clock, the party guests had melted away, leaving Tom, Nagini, Tsavo and Hermione to unwrap the rest of her presents. A little wooden wolf from Fenrir, magical robes that changed colour from Regulas Black, and an enchanted tea set from Lucius and Narcissa all found their way to Hermione. Whether from fear of their master or fondness of the little girl, Voldemort's followers had truly given his niece what he had asked for- a birthday to remember.

 _Perhaps I should organise a revel for them to say thanks,_ he thought to himself mildly.

Hermione finally found herself to the last present in the pile, a soft package wrapped in paper patterned with sherbet lemons. Tsavo looked up from the rug next to the fire, and let out a soft growl.

"Dear...Her-My-Ony," Read the witch, frowning as she attempted the words, "I look forward to... meeting you."

Tom sat up, and snatched the present from his niece. Underneath the card, was Dumbledore's familiar sloping signature. The package, blown apart by the Dark Lord, revealed a soft toy in the shape of a phoenix.

"That, Hermione," Growled Tom, "Is a present from a very awful man. One day you and I shall teach him not to send us unwanted messages."

Hermione shrugged, and went over to where Tom was stood; next to a large object covered in a bright white sheet.

The large present was the only thing left. Hermione plucked the envelope atop the gift, and opened it. A moving picture of a snake winding through a skull covered the thin card. Hermione opened it up to find tom's elegant handwriting in it.

 _To Hermione,_

 _Happy birthday,_

 _From your Uncle._

x.

At a whisk of the white sheet, the present was revealed to be an oak piano, swirled with mahogany, and crusted with a slight blue tint. The keys were of the finest ebony black, contrasting starkly with a white to envy even the mightiest unicorn.

Heaving off the heavy lid, Hermione looked inside the instrument to see small hairs connecting the keys, as thin as spider webs, yet stronger than the mightiest of load bearers.

"Now that you are one of us, Hermione, it is my job to immerse you in the arts. I thought you may like this to begin the language of music."

She gently tapped on the keys, eliciting a tinkle of music.

* * *

"Darling?" Gemma looked at her husband. He was splayed out on the rickety old bed, sun burnt from the hours spent showing workmen how to build cages for the injured animals. He groaned and looked up at his wife.

"What's the matter, Gemstone?"

His wife's brow creased.

"I feel like we're forgetting something. Was it someone's birthday today?"

Robert frowned, and hiked his glasses further up his nose. The Indian sun had made his nose peel like an overripe orange.

"I don't think so, darling."


	8. Chapter 8

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* * *

Hermione trudged through the thick snow back to the castle. Her thick hat and scarf was no match for the ice cold sleet raining down on her, and her dragonhide boots already let out a familiar squelching of wet rain in her socks.

It was December the eighteenth, that horrible day when it wasn't Christmas yet you were constantly tempted by the growing pile of presents and the constant smells of sugar emanating from the kitchen.

Already Hermione had bravely visited the hospital cellar for treatment for a repelling jinx.

Twice.

Perhaps once, Hermione and her parents would have bundled up on the sofa, watching repeats of cheesy holiday movies and drinking hot cocoa by the barrowful. She could easily conjure the taste of roasted parsnips on her tongue; remember her grandma CeCe wearing brightly coloured crowns and reminiscing about the balls she would attend as a young debutante.

Of course, the pureblood nobles enjoyed their parties, which were nothing like the fun gatherings Hermione's parents once held. The wizards and witches loved their revels, on nights where Draco and Hermione were kept in their rooms by a vigilant Tsavo, and the small children swore they could hear screaming. But she knew, deep down, there would be no lolling about in her pyjamas till midday this Christmas, or tilting crackers to aim the present for her side.

Hermione sighed, and pushed open the great stone doors. With the recent returnees from Hogwarts, had also come the dreadful weather. The young wizards and witches spoke to Hermione at great length of the spells and magic they would cast, and of the feasts and quidditch games they would enjoy. Hogwarts, mused Hermione, didn't sound like the small primary school her parents had taken her to look at.

Eventually Hermione dried off from the ceaseless snow, and ran to her room. there she changed her mittens and hat for a thick cream scarf her uncle had gifted to her a few days past. The dress she wore would suit a trip, Hermione decided, but decided to pull on the faux fur coat Narcissa had hung on the younger witch's wardrobe. The two nobles had spoken at length of the need to impress, and the privilege that the right outfit and hairstyle could provide for a pureblood.

Tsavo was the proud owner of a new yellow scarf, and couldn't resist posing in front of the mirror every chance he got. It was just as well that at dinner a few nights past, Fenrir had dipped the fringes of the yellow clothing in Hermione's tomato soup just as Tsavo caught a glance of himself in the silverware. Tom had found it rather amusing that the scratch on Fenrir's eye was taking some time to heal.

Hermione let loose a grin at the sight of her familiar. "Let's roll. We've got some serious shopping to do."

* * *

With most of the Death Eaters busy with Voldemort's orders, and their wives and husbands decorating the great castle of spending time with their children, Hermione was surprised to learn the young Death Eater Antonin Dolohov would be accompanying her on the trip to Diagon Alley. The gruff Russian man tapped on the snow covered bricks to slide through to the bustling streets, and already seemed embarrassed at how queasy Hermione looked next to him. Side along apparition was hard on the stomach at the best of times, and Hermione was already coming down with a sore throat from a snowball fight with Draco.

Hermione decided that to start at the top of the magical street would be the best method; ignoring the shouts and stares, she tottered off into a pet shop, Fenrir trudging behind, smiling at the look of fear on many of the shoppers staring at him.

"Are you going back to Russia for Christmas, Antonin?" Hermione asked pleasantly to the sloping man next to her. He scratched the scruff on his neck as he answered.

"I don't think so, child. Anyvay, Serena wants to go ice skating on Christmas Eve, and she's more fearsome then your uncle ven angered." He said in his Russian accent.

"Wasn't her sister just born? Astoria?" Asked Hermione.

"Yes, a rather big surprise. It vill be a boon to the Greengrass family to have another girl in the family, especially to vin your onkel's favour."

A bell within the shop chimed as Hermione entered, looking at the rows of bones suitable for cats. None of them were big enough, or strong enough at least.

Then she clocked an eye on the crocodile skull. It looked big and strong, and many of the teeth still remained. It would be perfect for Tsavo.

"Perfect!" she smiled, reaching onto her tiptoes and _just_ grabbing it.

Hermione turned to the snake collection and seized a large ball of mice tails; just the size for Nagini's snarling fangs.

She looked around the room casually as the shop assistant wrapped her gifts, and marvelled at the animals littering the shop.

Her eyes turned to the owls. Many of them stared at her with yellow gleaming eyes, but one, a black hawk, merely looked her up and down with his scarlet eyes and began to pluck his feathers.

"Apothocares, NO!" the assistant shrieked, grabbing his beak and muttering a spell over his back. As soon as she let go, Apothocares bit her, drawing blood, and let out a small cheep at her peeved expression. When the assistant caught sight of a smiling Hermione, she frowned even further.

"Bloody bird..." The assistant muttered.

Hermione grinned, believing to have found her uncle's present.

"I'll take him."

Hermione was clutching several bags, and was weighed down with the weight of Apothocares, who was squawking his indignation. Many people were staring, until Antonin glared around the street and sighed.

"Here, Hermione." he shrank the bags down until they were the size of his thumb, then he placed them inside his coat pocket. "Stay here with your familiar. I want to see if that stall has anything worth Serena's tastes."

As Hermione stood in front of the stall, bored and cold, a red haired little boy glanced at Hermione, and tottered of from his many siblings. He strutted up to Hermione.

"I'm Ron."

"Must be nice for you." Hermione sneered, her silvery gaze not lifting off of Ron. Tsavo laughed, licking one of his paws.

Ron's ears turned red.

"At least I'm not a stinking Death Eater!" He snarled, not noticing his mother turning round to look at her youngest son. Her daughter began squalling in her arms as she raced over to Ron.

"I'd rather be a Death Eater if it means I can afford decent clothes," Hermione coolly countered, her gaze sweeping Ron from his toes to his feathery mop of hair. Antonin was still busy at the market stall gazing at a glowing moonstone necklace.

"I'm telling my mam!" Ron retorted, stepping forwards.

"As if I care."

Molly padded slowly towards the duelling children. "Hello, Hermione!" She beamed, her hands trembling around her daughter. "I've heard a lot about you!"

Tsavo padded forward slowly, to stand by the young witch's side as she scowled. "Who are you?"

"I'm Molly! Is there anyone here looking after you?"

Hermione pointed towards Antonin, and opened her mouth to shout his name before Molly shook her head rapidly. Ron was muttering under his breath beside her.

"NO! No, don't bother him, darling! Say, would you like to come back to my house for a hot cocoa? We were just about to tuck in to some Christmas cake; I bet you don't have any where you live?"

Hermione took a step back from the middle aged witch, and tugged on a fold of Tsavo's black fur. He snarled, and roared at the ginger haired family, Antonin suddenly looking over at his charge.

"HERMIONE!" He barked, running over and pulling out his long wand.

"You, you... _Order_ ," He said with revulsion towards the shaking Weasley. "Keep your nose out of the Dark Lord's affairs or I'll curse it off."

 _Merlin, where is Arthur when I need him_ , inwardly groaned Molly. It was to her luck, however, that Alaster Moody was the resident Auror on duty that fateful day. The click of his staff on the cobbled streets betrayed his slow walk to rest beside Molly. The Weasley children stood tall behind their mother.

"Causing a ruckus again, are we, Antonin? Don't you remember what happened to little Barty Crouch last time your filth tried to intimidate an Order member?

Antonin bared his teeth, and stood with his wand by his side. "Don't think Barty won't be back where he belongs soon, old man. Now if you'll excuse me, Lord Voldemort,"- He ignored the gasps of the onlookers, - "Will be wondering where his niece is." Antonin took Hermione's hand in his, and walked to the middle of the crowded street.

"Hermione, come with us! We'll look after you far more then that evil monster ever could!" Molly cried desperately.

"Uncle says the Order is the true evil," Hermione said simply, winding her arm around Tsavo's thick neck. As one, the trio disappeared, leaving the trembling Molly and Alastar behind, in the magical street.

As Antonin, Hermione, and Tsavo apparated just outside the castle door, Antonin crouched to Hermione's eye level.

"I'll have to inform the Dark Lord of our little meeting today... but, if possible, could you forget that I vasn't... by your side at the time? I'll be no good ice skating if I'm recovering from one of his curses."

Hermione hugged Antonin's leg and nodded. She was good at keeping secrets.

* * *

Hermione laid out her presents on the floor, passing a critical eye over them. Whilst Tom had asked Hermione not to buy any gifts for his Death Eaters, knowing the bloodlust and villainy his followers craved couldn't be gifted with trinkets from Diagon Alley, Hermione had still thought of her uncle, Fenrir, Snape, and the Malfoys.

Apothocares stood in a corner, loudly squawking for Hermione to pay attention to him. sighing, Hermione stood up and looked him in the eye.

"Listen…"

Voldemort was passing Hermione's rooms when he heard a loud squawking, and an irritable sigh. Knocking on the door, he poked his head around and asked,

"Everything alright, Hermione?"

Hermione was sat, panting, next to a large object draped in one of her bedsheets. There was a tight smile on her face.

"…Yes."

"Are you sure?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

"…Yes."

"..Alright, then."

He shut the door and tapped his feet on the floor few times, imitating him walking away. He cocked his head to the door.

"Listen. If you shut up and stop squawking, I promise to feed you some venison. Deal?"

A shrill tapping could be heard.

"I'll go in a minute! Let me finish wrapping!"

Tom shrugged, and walked away. "Don't forget," He called to his niece, "I want you in my study in thirty minutes."

Only a week before Christmas. He'd find out what that infernal squawking was then.

* * *

The eagerly awaited day, Christmas, had arrived in time for Hermione's potential nervous breakdown to calm down. Living with Apothocares was more than she could bear.

But the presents were wrapped, the cards were wrote, and now Hermione sat patiently at the end of her bed for the little hand of the clock to reach the number seven.

When that amazing feat had finally been accomplished, she tottered out of the room, closely followed by a sleepy Tsavo.

She skipped down to the great hall, and sat on the floor in front of the blazing fire lit near to the magnificent Christmas tree. It was still dark outside, and thin drifts of snow leaked out of the sky.

Hermione's peaceful expression was interrupted by Tom entering the room quietly. As per normal, he was wearing a black turtleneck and trousers, covered by his thick robe. His slanted cheekbones were covered by his thick mop of black hair; he had not bothered to brush it. He was a handsome man, thought his niece, even though his eyes could flash the deepest red sometimes. Whilst Hermione's tawny curls and pink complexion often rendered her almost completely unlike to her uncle, she could see the resemblance in moments like this. Their grey eyes met.

"I'm proud to have you as an uncle," Said Hermione unexpectedly. He looked at her, and awkwardly nodded.

Tom's exceptionally long fingers twirled his wand around and around. His dark grey eyes stared into the fire.

She lifted up his black wrapped present with great care. Slowly, she placed it at his feet and flopped onto the floor next to Tsavo again. Tom's eyebrows rose.

"For me?"

Hermione nodded, the only sign of her excitement her glittering silver eyes.

Slowly he pulled back the black wrapping, and stared intently at Apothocares. Their eyes met, and his hand unlocked the cage door.

He held his arm out, and after a minute, Apothocares hopped onto his offered perch.

"Thank you, Hermione. I like him."

"His name is Apothocares."

"A good name for a good present."

At this comment Hermione smiled, and all of her fears had relaxed. She had pleased one of the people she loved the most, and that was enough for her.

* * *

Laughing, Hermione pulled a cracker with Draco. She was wearing the new set of robes he and his parents had bought her, and was slowly chomping her weight through a pile of roast potatoes and gammon. Tom sat, drinking his lone black coffee, but engaged Snape in hushed conversation before the professor journeyed back for the Hogwarts Christmas dinner.

Fenrir calmly rose from the table and bid Voldemort a merry Christmas. Only a slight rustling indicating he had received Hermione's gift.

He winked at her and doffed his cap, whistling as he strode out of the hall. The merriment of the Death Eaters filled the stone room, men and children alike gazing at the magnificent Christmas tree stood in the corner and tucking in to the swathes of food on offer from the house elves.

* * *

Settling down for the evening in her uncle's quarters, Hermione was sprawled out on the plush rug next to the fire, one of the few occasions Tom would allow her to look like a dead sloth. Hermione did so hate her deportment and etiquette lessons.

Nagini and Tsavo were clumped next to each other, each playing with their given toy. Nagini was curled around her ball, hissing in delight, while Tsavo was happily crunching on his crocodile head.

Catching Hermione's eye, he nodded and bit into a particularly hard bit of skull.

The lights on the hovering Christmas tree caught the beam of the roaring fireplace next to it. Hermione had never seen such a black tree encased in light before.

A shivering house elf appeared next to the placid Tom, and set a cup of steaming hot cocoa next to him, covered in fresh whipped cream and fluffy marshmallows.

"Here, Hermione," He murmured, and patted the cushion next to him.

As the young witch lay back next to her cold uncle, sipping her drink and watching the snow gently fall outside the windows, she thought to herself. Maybe the days of watching Christmas films and playing board games were gone; but perhaps, they wouldn't be missed.

* * *

Wow, does anyone else really feel in the christmas mood now? :P


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